


Fools Begot Fools

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Series: Supernatural/Batman fusions. [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Angst, Batfamily Feels, Gen, Past Character Death, Temporary Character Death, Violence, batfam, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:59:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supernatural Batman Fusion:</p>
<p>My version of "All Hell Breaks Loose"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fools Begot Fools

**Author's Note:**

> Batman and it's characters aren't mine.  
> The plot of this story is taken from the Supernatural episode "All Hell Breaks Loose" which is also, not mine.

Really, all he wanted was a burger.

It wasn’t that big of a request. He had been driving for around five hours straight, his stomach was killing him, and he was pretty sure the song stuck in his head was the jingle from the same advert playing over the radio. He didn’t want to get out of the car and what kind of brother would he be if he didn’t force Damian to do him favors every once and awhile.

“Just a cheeseburger, Damian,” Dick said, rolling down the car window. Damian glared at him.

“The car will smell like grease for hours, Grayson.”

“Are you driving?” Damian rolled his eyes, walking towards the small diner.

“If a vampire attacks you next hunt, I will not be the one saving you,” he muttered under his breath.

“I heard that!”

That had been twenty minutes ago and while Dick could appreciate a good old fashion revenge ploy in the form of a long wait, they did have somewhere to go. He peered out the window of the car, trying to get a good look into the diner. There was no line as far as he could see.

He couldn’t even see the chefs. Or the waiters. The diner was clean of people. That couldn’t be anything good.

Dick reached for the gun under the seat, tucking it in in his holster. He ran up to the diner, walking in with the intent to be unnoticed. The bell on the top of the door rang.

The dead bodies on the ground didn’t stir.

***

Dick meant Damian when he was eight and he had tried to kill Tim.

In Damian’s defense, he was sure Tim was a shape shifter at the time. In Tim’s defense, Damian should have tested that before he leapt at him with a knife and a baseball bat.

Bruce had gone to stitch Tim up and Dick had been put on guard duty for his youngest brother. He had tried to get him to open up in any way possible, to respond to one of his jokes. The effect was like trying to exchange banter with a wall.

Things had improved since then. Somewhere between the werewolf hunt and the odd visions, Dick and Damian had become brothers, at least in Dick’s point of view. Which meant that Dick was not letting him die on his watch.

***

If Damian got out of this, he was going to hate visiting historical cites forever.

It was the most haunted city in America, that he knew with certainty. The symbols on the buildings were enough to tell him that. The ghost that had strung up one of his fellow confused strandees confirmed it.

He was keeping them calm for now, which was hard considering most of them were older than him. Being thirteen tended to chip away merit from any claim. The others were sleeping in different rooms, salt lines prepped, demon traps drawn. Damian preferred to keep watch, trying to ignore the smell of the cold burger in his pocket.

Oh course the demon would teleport Grayson’s burger with him but not Grayson himself. Like a burger would be of any use.

He reached down into his pocket, flinching at the smell of special sauce. How anyone ate these things were beyond him. The wrapped was almost soaked through with grease, but there was a large stain of dry blood on the side. He closed his eyes, remembering scenes of other vanished children, their friends, their family left in their wake with slit throats and dead eyes.

He threw the burger out the window. No, he would much prefer Grayson right now.

***

Damian hated Dick Grayson until sometime on their third hunt.

He had a reason. The man was clearly Father’s favorite, a man who was taking away more time from becoming the rightful heir to the Wayne family legacy. He was loud, his was foolish, he sang while they drove to horrible pop music.

But he was the only one willing to take Damian on hunts. So he suffered in silence, sulking in the backseat, his music player on full volume and waited for the day his Father would be driving the car rather than a fool.

Then Dick almost got ripped in half by a harpy.

“You’re an idiot,” Damian said, pressing cloth to the large gaping claw mark in Grayson’s chest. It was bleeding badly, much too badly, and he kept his eyes on the phone. Todd would be here any minute.

“You were going to die, Dami “ Dick said, and Damian wondered why he kept up the nickname. “I could use...” He gasped. “Another scar.”

“Assuming you live through this.” Dick looked down at his torn up chest and laughed.

“Had worse. Once I get patched up, I’m going to win for sexist Wayne scar and Jason will sulk for a week. It’ll be great little D.” He hummed to himself, one of the same songs that played over and over again by the radio and grinned, his teeth stained red. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Dick did turn out fine. Jason did pout for a good week (Damn it Dick, I fucking died for this scar). That didn’t matter.

The day Dick woke up he asked if his little brother was okay. It took five minutes for Damian to realize that he meant him.

***

“My tracer has him at there, Dick. You’re close.”

“Thank god,” Dick said, pushing on the gas. Tim and Stephanie were in the backseat, both doing other tracking programs as they drove.

“There’s been a lot of dead cattle around the area, Dick,” Tim said, typing in a few keys. “Looks like it’s the right spot.” Stephanie looked over his shoulder and shook her head.

“Damn, that’s a lot of wasted beef. Middle America is going to freak.”

“So what’s the plan, Dick?” Tim asked, typing in a few more lines of code. Dick kept his eyes on the road.

“We save Damian. We work out the rest from there.”

***

Bruce Wayne taught Damian how to fire his first gun.

Dick Grayson taught Damian how to properly Macarena.

And even though it should be obvious, Damian couldn’t figure out why he treasured both memories equally.

***

He figured out it was a fight to the death on the second day and would have laughed if it wasn’t for the fact he was facing the demon who put him here.

It was so cliché. Grayson took him to see the Hunger Games last year. He would have thought that demons would be a little more original.

“Please,” the demon said, sneering. His bright green eyes and his lips cut into a horrendous smile were in his new body as well. “I invented that hat trick, kiddo. I should sue.”

“Can I wake up now?” Damian asked, tapping his foot. “You’re being boring.”

The demon clapped his hands together. “I’m a source of entertainment; you’re just a wet noodle. Wonder what it would take to get a chuckle out of you? I could get the old crowbar out of storage, but no one likes a stale joke. Though watching your big brother’s brains splatter across a warehouse wall was one of my better bits.”

Damian had studied how Jason Todd died (and later came back). He had seen photos. And somehow, it was only this time that it made his stomach sick.

“Leave Todd out of this.” The demon laughed.

“Oh, protective aren’t we? That’s adorable; I should take pictures. The demon child actually cares about his adoptive family? Like the family dinners? I never took you for having a soft spot. Maybe I should have brought them here too for a better game. How well do you think that Brown girl takes a shotgun to the spine?”

“Quiet.” The demon smirked.

“Or the Drake boy takes to getting his skin flayed off. Or how Todd screams like a girl when he sees a crowbar. Or the splatter of blood that comes from Grayson’s throat if I were to-“

“Quiet!” Damian lunged for the demon only for it to vanish into air. He woke up breathing fast, a scream stuck in his throat.

The salt lines on the window were as steady as ever but somehow Damian felt like they were breaking.

***

His Father died with a demon pact freshly sealed, and four sons still very broken.

They split up after that. Tim took off with Jason and Dick took Damian, Stephanie visiting them both. But first they had a funeral where the ashes of Bruce Wayne’s corpse danced in the sky.

Dick held his hand on his shoulder the entire time. And somehow it helped, even as he managed to swallow a scream.

***

Dick found Damian at eleven at night. Tim and Stephanie were close behind him as he entered the clearing of the haunted town, screaming the younger boy’s name.

“Dick!” A voice cried and it took seconds for Dick to realize that Damian wasn’t calling him Grayson. He broke into a sprint, the others on his heels, grinning as he took in his mud covered but alive baby brother.

He didn’t see the knife until it reflected light of his flashlight. Damian’s howl of pain would echo in his head for weeks. The attacker ran, Tim and Steph chasing after him and Dick fell to his knees next to a broken body and a growing blood stain.

The rain hurt against his skin. Any yells were lost in the thunder.

***

“Why would Father do such a thing?” Damian was staring down at the latest email from Jason and Tim. “Why was he such a fool?”

“Bruce wasn’t a fool,” Dick said, passing the kid a cup of hot tea. “He made a bad choice, but he did it for a reason. “

“What reason?” Damian’s sneer was horrid on his face. “To save Todd when he might have waked up the next day? To send himself to hell for a boy that has come back before and showed him nothing but-“

“Damian.” Dick cut him off. He took a long sip of his drink. “I know this is hard to see but there’s more to this world than demon slaying and pain. Bruce didn’t sell his soul for some kid. He sold his soul for his son that he loved.”

“Did he really think Todd would appreciate his act?” Damian pointed at the line in the email where Tim wrote that Jason had been “unstable and guilt ridden” lately. Dick shook his head.

“I doubt he thought that far. He was going to lose his son. I think he couldn’t do it again. He blamed himself. If you think about it, it makes sense. ”

Damian glared, and it was somewhat ineffective with a hot chocolate mustache. “Then you’re a fool too, Grayson.”

Dick laughed. “Yeah, I guess I am. I guess I am.”

***

Five miles away from the most haunted city in America, Dick Grayson buried a box with his old police ID in it.

Ten minutes later, Damian Wayne woke up on a rotted mattress.


End file.
